Quotes About Cracks

It was intensely cold, with sand swirling in the air. The wind seemed to be racing past overhead, blurring the outlines of stars in the sky, except for a few of the largest ones, which shimmered slightly. There was no wind near the ground, but the freezing cold air was everywhere, opening long cracks in the wheel ruts…

What's your rush? the key's scent said. The stone of the street said. The bright young sun said, seeking its way into the color-washed walls through cracks and crannies and shirts hung out like flags between balconies to dry. I've got all day. You've got all week. We've got a half-dozen centuries.

A crime is like a crack in reality, and it is the author's role to explore those cracks. As a writer, I like to see how they impinge on people.

I sat back in my wooden chair as they signed the paperwork and stared down at the arm rests, studying the various layers of paint, the chips and cracks. How many hands had gripped them? I wondered. What lives were attached to those hands, what dreams were shattered, what sorrows were they trying to squeeze out of their souls?

Sympathetic cracks. A term frequently used by architects and surveyors in terms of ageing houses. I know what they mean.

In spite of all evidence that life is discontinuous, a valley of rifts, and that random chance plays a great part in our fates, we go on believing in the continuity of things, in causation and meaning. But we live on a broken mirror, and fresh cracks appear in its surface every day.

Sport provides the spectacle, the metaphor, the religious ritual, the putty to fill the cracks in countless lives.

She'd always adored autumn storms, from the quiet that came before the rain, when the birds and bugs went silent, to the raucous cracks and grumbles that echoed between the clouds, rife with the possibility of goblins and ghosts.

David, you don't want to get rid of the cracks and the crevices in the building because that's where the ghosts hide. And if you get rid of the ghosts, the Chelsea will just be any other building.

The trees were almost bare, making their branches appear as cracks in the cosmos.

The true story...is the realization that no time in your life is ever perfect, that even the best memories have cracks you might not see.

To this day it cracks me up to think that my debut on national British television as a reporter ends with me turning a trick.

We should remark the grace and fascination that there is even in the incidentals of Nature's processes.. When a loaf of bread,. for instance,. is in the oven,. crack appear in it here and there; and these flaws,. though not intended in the baking,. have a rightness of their own,. and sharpen the appetite..

Sometimes grace is a ribbon of mountain air that gets in through the cracks.

There is cracks, cracks, in everything, that's how the light gets in.' I had cracks but not the hope.

It's easy to look at people and make quick judgments about them, their present and their past, but you'd be amazed at the pain and tears a single smile hides. What a person shows to the world is only one tiny facet of the iceberg hidden from sight. And more often then not, it's lined with cracks and scars that go all the way to the foundation of their soul.

It's easy to look at people and make quick judgements about them, their present and their pasts, but you'd be amazed at the pain and tears a single smile hides. What a person shows to the world is only oneone tiny facet of the iceberg hidden from site. And more often than not, it's lined with cracks and scars that go all the way to the foundation of their soul. ~Acheron 2008

Out of this historic interlude of hope and chaos, into the resulting vacuum of instability, the Islamic State emerged. It was sophisticated, organized, and determined to exploit all the grievances, cracks, and disorder the lost revolutions so generously offered. And it had perceptively noted women as a rising political force, even as it proposed a radically patriarchal form of family organization and politics that stripped women of their autonomy.

The kind of laughter, that sudden joy that strikes hidden fault lines and cracks them wide open.

Wars, plagues, names upon tombs tell us only what happened. But history lies in the cracks between. In the inexplicable, invisible turns—when someone puts a hand down, pushes open one particular gate, and steps through. A man saying no instead of yes, two hands grasped on a dark street.

The wind is the moon's imagination wandering. It seeps through cracks, ripples the grass, explores the unknown. My love is my soul's imagination.

She watched the smoke from the cigarette ooze slowly up to the ceiling, form into a nebulous cloud above her head like some miniature L.A. and then glanced at me. "Open the window, the room smells." As I struggled with the lock, I noticed the cracks in the pane looked like so many veins in her wrist, pulsing, throbbing, making rivers of passion and death.

Her heart was finished. It bore, perhaps, records of life, but it wasn't alive. Too late for decoration. Too late for effects. Further handling could only result in cracks and fractures. People could cut themselves on the edgesof her heart, she was sure of it.

It all came back to something I'd figured out once about the detective business. There were two ways to go along: underground or on top. I never found out which was best. Underground you had the element of surprise on your side, but it was harder to move around. On top you went everywhere, taking cracks at everybody, and everybody taking cracks at you. You had to be tough to play it that way. Well, I was tough.